Broken Feathers, Flightless Wings
by amidoh
Summary: Abuse has grown up with him, and now he is breaking free. Without friends or family, Lyude must heal himself by himself. LadekahnLyude, Fadroh&SkeedLyude implied, SkeedFolon, FolonSkeed. It's a story of those four Imperials and Ladekahn. Enjoy.
1. I: Prologue

Disclaimer: You know it. Not mine, enter legal gibberish here, blah blah.

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The boy could not have been over the tender age of sixteen years, yet the signs of abuse were obvious on his wasted, pale body. Clear on his wrists were the red weals from where manacles had cruelly cut into the skin, and his eyes were slightly deader than those of any normal Mintakan, alert, wary, yet somehow subdued.

The amount of control Fadroh and Skeed had over him was incredible. All either one of them had to do was threaten to tell the world about his faults, his weaknesses, and he was an instant submissive slave in their hands, for them to manipulate and play with as they pleased. Well-trained, nary a single whimper escaping his lips as he was raped again, again and again.

He didn't speak much any more. His voice, recently broken, had been the subject of too many taunts from his lover and his brother, so he had hidden it away where it could do no more damage.

The torture was unbearable. He loved Fadroh with all his heart, mind, body and soul, and though Fadroh had frequent sex with him, the older man – at least six years his senior, to be sure – was always rough and never seemed to care about Lyude. Never once had Fadroh said he loved Lyude in return, and had even snapped at the timid redhead for using the phrase 'too often'. Claimed it was weak, not worthy for one of his playmates.

White scars littered his inner thighs, from where Fadroh had been too rough and had cut the sensitive skin there, or from when Skeed had gloatingly opened the wounds deeper, later on when it was his turn, and bruises were dotted around his entire body, some here, some there, some purple and black, some fading into green-brown.

The only source of comfort for him was Almarde, his nurse, who would soothe him and heal him, tuck him in to bed and stay to fend away his restless, haunted dreams. He could tell it pained her that he bore such rough and heartless treatment silently, that he seemed to put up with it and even go back for more, but she accepted that he was in love with Fadroh, who was an officer quickly gaining status in the army, and that Skeed was hard to avoid.

It was a strange thing to say, but Lyude didn't consider himself abused. He had always thought of himself as quite a happy child; after all, did he not have everything he wanted? He had older siblings to look up to and idolise, he had a wonderful nursemaid in the place of his deceased parents, who taught him and played with him, he had a lover to call his own.

…he had all he could ever want except happiness.

Lyude's mother had not been the mother of Skeed and Vallye, she had instead been a prostitute picked up by their shared father from Azha. She was the daughter of a stonecutter's widow, and a very sickly, frail girl. After bearing Lyude, she passed away on his father's doorstep, begging him to take the newborn baby in.

He had done so, but his reputation had been soiled as the news of his affair with an Azhani escaped. His own wife – Skeed and Vallye's mother – eloped soon afterwards with another Mintakan and they were both eventually killed in the armed forces. Lyude's father had ignored his illegitimate son, instead hiring Almarde to look after him, while concentrating his wrath on Skeed, the firstborn and heir to the estate.

It seemed as though he had hoped to regain his honour by driving Skeed onwards to be the best he could, and it was all too often that Skeed had too much work to sleep, could be found in tears in his bedroom, even being beaten by the father, who had taken to alcohol, for not working properly.

Then, on Skeed's tenth birthday, the official letter confirming their father's death had arrived and the estate passed into his heir's ownership.

Skeed and Vallye had never been particularly nice to Lyude, as he was half-Azhani and one of the reasons other Mintakans sneered at them in the street and passed snide remarks about their late father.

It broke Almarde's heart. She remembered Lyude as a very young child, hiding from his hateful brother. In fairness, Skeed had been under so much pressure, but that had been no reason to take out his frustration on his younger brother. Still, though, even through all that, Lyude had still been smiling, happy, polite and well-behaved, intelligent and eager to learn. Curious, naïve, content, those were what he had been, yet his gentle soul and compassionate nature had been pounced upon and ripped apart by the jaded elder men.

In no time, he had deteriorated to the forlorn, hopeless creature she now knew as Lyude. He who had endured taunt after taunt after taunt, about his wings – small, greyed, broken – and about his nature, his shyness, his squeamishness and his naïveté. Almarde knew also that he purposefully hurt himself, bringing out his wings and ripping clumps of feathers out until he bled, even once snapping the frail bone to leave the limb trailing painfully on the floor.

Lyude had joined the army to impress Skeed. Oh, Skeed had been impressed. Impressed enough to present Lyude to his commanding officer, Fadroh, and for them to agree to share the boy.

Reflecting on things past would do no good for him, Almarde believed, her darling boy whom she would gladly give her life to protect. She had called him to see her, an evening when Skeed and Fadroh were either out training or out drinking. It didn't matter to her, it was the same either way; they would return inebriated and annoyed, ready to take it out on Lyude's fragile body.

"My dear boy," She spoke soft, deeply upset about what she felt she should reveal to him, if only to heal his fracture, disillusioned spirit. "You know what will happen tonight. I can hear it, dear boy, every night. Why do you let them do this?"

"The stars are going to be bright tonight…" Lyude's voice was faint through ill use. "He – Fadroh – he promised me that he might come stargazing with me tonight…"

A sigh from the nurse followed the almost childish assumption. "Has he made this promises before, dear one?"

"Yes – yes…"

"Has he ever kept them?"

"No – he's been busy – he's being promoted soon – his work takes priority, it's always been that way…"

The nursemaid truly hated herself for what she said next:

"Lyude, he's lying."

The young teen froze, blood-red eyes widened and disbelieving as he stared as his mentor incredulously.

"You're – no, you're wrong, Almarde, he loves me too – he just – I –!"

"He's never said he loves you, my boy… he uses you. He doesn't love you. You're just a toy to him. I – I know you might hate me for saying this, Lyude, but you're letting yourself become his slave even though it's tearing you apart… Has he ever said he likes anything about you? Your voice? Your _wings_?"

"I – I – no…" A great revelation washed over Lyude and his hands fisted tightly in the hem of his tunic. "He… told me he hates them. He thinks my voice is girly and my wings are ugly and I'm weak… Almarde, I – I love him!"

"Shh… sh-sh-shh… I know you do…" She took her boy into her arms and comforted him. "You mustn't let him walk all over him, dear Lyude, it's killing you… you don't even eat anymore, and soon you won't have the strength to carry on. You're stronger than this, my boy."

"N-No, I…"

"You are. You're stronger than you think. You've endured so much, Lyude, most men would have died by now but you're still here, you're still sane. You're still my darling boy."

"Almarde – "

"Hush, don't speak. Would you like to come stargazing with me?"

And, for the first time in what seemed like aeons, Lyude smiled once again, his eyes seeming to light up at the prospect.

"I… I would like that very much…"

---

It took perhaps only four or five weeks for Lyude to be able to act as though nothing had happened. After finding the courage within himself to refuse them, Fadroh and Skeed had more or less left him alone, apart from the occasional backhand across the cheek if he offended them in any way.

Quite suddenly, however, his fortune had again changed for the worse. He had been promoted to colonel unexpectedly, and then ordered to take a commanding role in Operation Sweep, just below those officers who would lead the mission.

He was fine with that until, in an audience with the Emperor, he received his briefing for the mission.

Kill the Azhanis. Kill his people.

Who but the most heartless could expect him to do that? Though it seemed that the Mintakans were the most heartless, for when he had complained to the Emperor, he had been shot down in the most humiliating of ways.

Then, when he had complained again, and even tried to prevent it, the worst had come to the worst.

Branded traitor, he lay rotting, chained in solitary confinement in the Imperial Fortress, waiting for his day of release. The normal practise for disposing of traitors was execution – he had supposed that was what awaited him, to be shot dead in front of the public body of Mintaka. But, no, because of his family name – which would gain far too much in the way of disrepute was that to happen – he had been granted a less serious punishment. Exile. Excommunication.

The light of his cell flickered on and off in the most annoying of ways. Almarde wandered through his mind. Since the day she had spoken to him and taken him out to watch the stars, he had felt his confidence slowly return, he had been getting stronger and stronger, finally healing after months of ill-treatment.

He would, however, still bring out his wings and rip the broken grey feathers out, hurling them away from him as though the sight of them burned his eyes. Self-scorn, self-hatred, disgust at his own cowardice and his previous consent to being used, those were what had spawned such activities.

Cold, cold and damp. That was what the prison cell was, cold and damp. He could occasionally hear the rats nibbling at his boots; that 'scritch scritch scritch' noise was going to drive him slowly insane. Was it night? Was it day? The only light came from the sporadic electric lamp above his head, which short-circuited itself so frequently it could hardly be called a lamp.

Every now and again, a bowl of thin soup would be slid on a tray though the hatch in the door, along with another smaller bowl which contained putrid, stagnant water. Lyude could feel his waistline receding as his body complained of the repetitive prison diet.

Skeed and Vallye loathed him now more than he had ever though was humanely possible. It was as though he was suddenly some sort of monster; Skeed had been apoplectic, almost trembling with rage, and Vallye had distanced herself in the highest degree, coldly ignoring Lyude just as their father had done so many years and tears ago.


	2. II: Collapsing Walls

Doubt plagued Lyude's mind. He was to be shipped to Diadem, under the pretence of being an Imperial Ambassador – he knew it was because the Empire wanted no correspondence with Diadem and thus wouldn't have any contact with the exiled redhead, but in order to fulfil his punishment requirements, he had to lie to the monarch and the people of the nation he would be moving to and pretend that he was actually an officer. What horrible deeds could he expect from them if he was discovered?

The gaolers weren't much helping either. Only the nastiest and most dim-witted of soldiers were assigned the role of patrolling the cells and feeding the convicts, as it wasn't the best paid job and there wasn't much chance of a breakout from the high-strength solitary confinement cells. The nastiest and most dim-witted soldiers also found it amusing to taunt Lyude especially, for he was so much more fragile than other inmates, about his punishment.

"You know," one of them would say conspiratorially, "I heard that they eat people in Diadem. They rape 'em, torture 'em and eat 'em alive. Whaddaya suppose you'll taste like, traitor? Do traitors taste like the best Mintakan delicacy, or would they taste more like burnt foreign Pow?"

"Bet ye taste like burnt Pow meat, rotten to the core at that." The second one would add, and then, reaching through the flap in the door where the food tray was pushed, they would upend it and spill the contents over the grimy floor.

Though he was terrified at the prospect of going alone to the potentially hostile Diadem, he was almost ecstatic to finally be allowed out of his small cell into the daylight again, though for the first few minutes or so the sun stung his eyes as it gleamed off the polished metal buildings in Mintaka, whence he was led through to the port and his waiting deportation vessel.

It was quite surprising that, as a convict, he would be given one of the newest, most advanced models of the single-person cruisers, but then… he supposed it was logical. If he were to pass as an ambassador, a legal officer, it had to seem as though he were in the Empire's favour and in frequent contact with them.

That theory completely contradicted the fact that they were giving him nothing to leave with apart from a small bundle of his personal belongings, which Almarde had given to the soldiers for him, and his army issue Sonic Rifle. No clothes apart from his official uniform, no Magnus apart from those he had already accumulated and no money apart from the small amount that Almarde had slipped in his bundle.

Oh yes, and there was a letter from Geldoblame addressed to King Ladekahn of Diadem – that was something else that Lyude had to take with him to the land of clouds.

It was forbidden for family and friends to wave goodbye to the exiled Lyude, or it was under normal circumstances. Because of their high status, Skeed, Vallye and Fadroh were allowed and expected to come to the dock to cast off the tiny vessel. Lyude had no real wish to see any of them, still hurting deep inside from his suffering not two months prior. The only person he wanted to see him off on this journey was Almarde, and she was forbidden from seeing him. That was just another part of his punishment.

It was even worse to have Skeed and Fadroh seeing him escorted out as he was, wincing at the sunlight after his weeks of solitary confinement in a dark cell in the Imperial Fortress, bleeding from the wrists because of the rubbing the shackles he was bound with caused – there were great red welts in the skin, painful and deepening with every moment he bore his chains.

For some reason, it began to dawn on him that this wasn't fair. What had he done wrong? He had refused to kill his people, the Azhanis – did that mean he should be punished so? Yes, in the Imperial eye. Yes, in the laws of Malpercio, which Geldoblame flawlessly followed.

And how hard he had fought, how hard he had tried to attain Skeed and Vallye's love, but still they scorned him and still they hated him. It wasn't fair, on the grounds of his birth alone he had been hated by his half-siblings. Now he was to never see them again, and while his desperation to prove himself to them grew, their hatred and resentment would only flourish. Skeed, of course, had good reason to hate him – much better than the younger Vallye – and Lyude, as the youngest of three, was only thankful that Skeed had managed to turn his certain execution into exile, even if it was to Diadem, where he would apparently be raped again and then eaten alive by the heathen inhabitants.

Lyude could feel the hate-filled eyes upon him as the gaolers released him from his chains and shoved him into the one-man cruiser that was on auto-pilot to Diadem. To prevent his trying to escape to another country, the onboard computer had been programmed so that if the cruiser was steered manually off-course, the engines would immediately self-destruct, sending the small craft plunging into the Taintclouds and sending Lyude to a certain death. Also, to prevent the convict's escape in a different craft once he had made it to Diadem, or if he tampered with the computer and managed to turn off the self-destruct mechanism, units stationed in the continents with neutral alliance to Alfard had been ordered to shoot and kill him on sight.

Fadroh was barking out some commands, Skeed was hissing some hateful words, but Lyude couldn't hear them. It was all a blur – it had happened so fast! And then, suddenly and without warning, or so it seemed, Alfard was just a speck in the distance.

When had they cast him off? He hadn't noticed them cast him off! Had any of them said goodbye? Good luck? We'll miss you? No, somehow he didn't think they would have done.

And now, for the long journey to Diadem, there was nothing to do but rummage around in the small compartment in the front of the craft and try to get some sleep, cramped in an awkward position, using the cloth that he usually kept for wrapping up his sonic rifle as a pillow. Who knew what tomorrow would bring?

Some dark corner of his mind told him that what tomorrow brought wouldn't be enjoyable. It could be anything – resentful faces, mistrust, that torture he had been told he would have to endure… the Mintakans always insisted that those from Diadem were savages – could that be true? Would they really abuse him and eat him?

Of course relations between Alfard and Diadem were shaky; they had always been that way, ever since the skirmishes a couple of generations back. Everyone knew that, even those from the neutral continents of Mira, Anuenue and Sadal Suud. It was likely that he would be treated to harsh words and xenophobia on sight, and that no one would trust him… that was ok, he was a traitor, wasn't he? And he would have to meet their king… oh dear skies, what if the king of Diadem – was his name Ladekahn? – what if King Ladekahn was as sick and twisted as Geldoblame? Dear Skies, there wouldn't be anything left of the fragile little redhead within a week if that were the case…

But for now, all he could do, as helpless as he was, was to sit back and hope for the best, to try and get some sleep and to not dwell on the horrors that he was sure he would face on arriving in Diadem come tomorrow.


	3. III: Diadem

Author note: from hereon in there will be various spoilers woven into the events, certainly in the later chapters there will be references and other such to events that happen after the completion of Disc 1. **Please do not read if you don't want spoilers**.

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A dispatch vessel had been sent to lead the drifting cruiser into Sheliak port and the knights on guard had woken the sleeping Lyude, escorting him to Elnath castle for an audience with the king; although Lyude hadn't requested such a thing, visitors and envoys from the Empire were so rare that it was normal for an automatic audience, and unannounced envoys, such as Lyude, who had come with no official backing, were even rarer.

A glimpse of red, gold and black had caught his eye, mingling with the blues and humble browns of his own knights, and now Ladekahn, king of the cloud country of Diadem, was watching the proceedings far below him with interest from a window in a chamber high up Castle Elnath. It struck him immediately that the young man in the Imperial uniform was, in a certain way, quite attractive. It wasn't fitting to call him handsome – at least, surely not; he was far too effeminate – but he was certainly beautiful bordering on gorgeous. It was hard to believe, having met Emperor Geldoblame several times, that the Empire could produce such angelic creatures.

"What do you think, then?" The blonde addressed the commander of his garrison, who was also watching the approaching redhead. The man was known for his analytical awareness and his accurate approximations of danger in a stranger.

"He's alone, that's for certain. No one else could fit in that vessel." The knight spoke in his rough voice. He was a seasoned fighter and had earned Ladekahn's respect, and he himself believed the latter to be a strong and wise ruler. "Doesn't seem to be armed either. Looks like a little pansy, to be honest with you. He must be intelligent, though, if he's Alfard's representative. Geldy wouldn't choose any old trash to come over here. I'd say he'd be arrogant 'cause they all are over there – remember when you met with some of the officers, Sire? They treated you like a savage – but from here I can tell he really isn't at ease."

"Hmm. I'd say you're about right, but I think he's armed. You see that bundle he carries? I'd say that's a weapon, and, knowing the Empire, it's a gun of some variety. He's bound to have training with it, too, as, unless he wished for them to meet death, Geldoblame wouldn't send soldiers to Diadem unarmed and alone."

"Do you think so?"

"I shall confirm so in a few moments, it seems. I shall speak with you after I have helped our Mintakan guest settle in – after all, I must show him how hospitable we 'savages' of Diadem can be, hmm?"

---

Lyude was absolutely petrified. He found himself unable to look up from the ground, where wisps of golden peach clouds swirled around his feet, to the stern, almost mistrustful expressions on the faces of his escort.

He hadn't wanted to make a scene, of course, as he loathed being the centre of attention, but that was certainly what he was doing now, being lead nearly at spear point to the castle like the criminal he knew he was. He had planned to prepare himself properly and hide in his cruiser for a while before discreetly requesting an audience with the king, but… he had screwed up again, hadn't he? He'd slept too long and the cruiser had drifted around Sheliak port, the autopilot not programmed to take him in to dock, until being lead in by a small boat from Diadem. That was when the soldiers had woken him by prodding him roughly with their weapons – he was obviously hated at sight for being Imperial – and demanded his purpose in their country.

Every step he took, he could feel the eyes on him, hateful eyes, eyes that despised him because of his gaudy Imperial colours borne on his ostentatious Imperial uniform, eyes that belonged to the inhabitants of Sheliak. What would they do to him? What torture could possibly await at the hands of the xenophobic barbarians – as he had been told those from Diadem were - ? Yet… as it struck him, the buildings were refined and upperclass… were they constructed using the riches scavenged from the dismembered bodies of half-eaten victims?

Oh, how much he would give to have Almarde here with him! She invariably lifted his spirits, took away the pain…

His escort left him in a large conference room, furbished with comfortable but modest chairs around an impressive table that was obviously made of the native wood. With a deep inhalation, Lyude realised that there was someone else in the room with him. It had to be the king… skies, what would he be like? The little redhead closed his eyes, thinking Ladekahn would be like Geldoblame – the only royalty he knew – old, perverted, evil… would he be groped? Raped again?

"Good morning. May I enquire as to the purpose of your arrival here in our country?"

He was being spoken to… dear skies, he was going to die, it was all over, it was all over! Behind that almost kind and benevolent voice surely there lurked the mind of a savage killer!

"…Ambassador? It is 'ambassador', I presume?"

…oh.

…oh!

Having opened his eyes, Lyude was, in an instant, transfixed. Great skies above, Ladekahn was absolutely _gorgeous_! His blonde hair, flowing, wavy, to his shoulders and beyond, halfway down his back, tumbling down like a glorious waterfall of silk… his blue eyes, deep, intense, never-ending, a pit of knowledge, wisdom… kindness?… that one might not expect in someone so obviously young – the man could not have been over the age of thirty!

"Ambassador?"

"Oh!" Remember, Lyude, no matter how beautiful he is, he's still probably going to kill you and eat you. Ye skies, look how tall he is! "Um…"

"Are you ill?" There was an obvious note of concern in Ladekahn's kind voice, but Lyude refused to let himself relax, the words of the gaolers playing over and over again in his mind. "You are flushed… the journey from Alfard was stressful? My knights have harassed you?"

"No, not at all… um…?" And, at that moment, Lyude realised what Ladekahn was talking about. He was blushing, damn it, blushing and still terrified. Nervously, he held out the letter from Geldoblame to Ladekahn, swallowing to ease his dry throat.

"I, um, I'm to be, ah, I was appointed as the new ambassador for Diadem, and, ah, I hope to keep the peace between Alfard and your fair country, um…" It was obvious how scared he was from his stuttering, but he couldn't find the words. The only thing he could remember at the moment was that he must not, under any circumstances, let slip that he was a convict… a common criminal… an exile…

Ladekahn's blue eyes flickered with something indescribable and he opened the letter, reading through it, his expression tensing more and more as he approached the end. By the end of the letter, his brow was furrowed with something akin to annoyance.

"Please, do me the courtesy of not lying to me." He spoke with none of his former friendliness and Lyude floundered – how could Ladekahn possibly know? Could he read minds? But that question was answered by the king's next words: "This letter from Emperor Geldoblame tells me that I may dispose of you as I see fit, in no terms giving possibility to misinterpretation unless on assumes he has sent me the wrong letter, which is nigh impossible, as this is addressed to me and bears an excellently accurate description of you. So shall we start again… _Ambassador_… with your name and your true purpose here?"

"Oh…" Lyude swallowed, cheeks reddening with shame. "I… er… I'm a convict, Sire, I was… supposed to be executed, but instead, um, I was exiled to Diadem…"

The blonde king stared at the nervous redhead incredulously. "What did you _do_?" He asked after a moment. "To anger the Emperor that much?" It was unbelievable – how could this soft-spoken young man do anything wrong? He just couldn't imagine it, no matter how hard he tried. Yet… from the tone of the letter, Geldoblame was certainly irate enough with Lyude to demand that Ladekahn kill him.

Ladekahn knew he wouldn't kill the timid redhead, no matter how serious the crime he committed against the Empire was. For the first reason, it was not really in his nature to kill anyone unless that someone had committed a direct attack or assault on himself of his country, and secondly he despised Geldoblame's view that he was an uneducated subordinate and was to be ordered about as such.

"I, um, betrayed the Imperial army and, um, turned on my commanding officer…" Lyude gave the official reasons for his sentence, those he had been found guilty of at his court-martial. In truth, he had only opposed the orders, he hadn't attacked his commander, nor had he given or sold information to the Azhanis… just think! They could still be alive if he had, even if it had spelled his death… he was such a coward, so worried of losing his life or his rank… He found himself speaking without intervention from his brain, just speaking his innermost feelings to this new king to whom he had hardly spoken: "And cowardice… I was… am… a terrible coward…"

He couldn't kill and couldn't fly, not with his wings in the state they were in…

Maybe the Empire was right. Maybe he really did deserve to be dumped with those from Diadem and excommunicated from his family and his homeland.

"Betrayed the army?" Ladekahn's voice had taken on a slightly cynical tone as he casually tossed the letter from Geldoblame into the fire, where it flared briefly and then burnt out. "What did you do, refuse to kill in cold blood? Tell others not to kill in cold blood?" A small sigh escaped the king's lips when he noticed that Lyude was cowering, so close to tears – he knew he was right. "Have no fear, I am not planning to kill you unless you harbour those same intentions for me or anyone in my country."

"I, I…"

"What am I supposed to _do_ with you?"

"I, um, am officially an ambassador, Sire…" Lyude allowed himself to show the merest hint of relief – Ladekahn wasn't going to kill him!

"Really? According to that letter, in Alfard, you are officially dead." One thin eyebrow was raised, as though to confirm this fact.

"Um. Everyone was told I was just being demoted to ambassador from colonel… um. That's so you could kill me and his Lordship's hands wouldn't be sullied with my blood… um."

Ladekahn sighed and regarded the little Imperial for a moment too long, causing Lyude to squirm beneath the firm gaze, before he suddenly smiled.

"Ambassador it is, then. Welcome to Diadem, Ambassador."


	4. IV: Those Imperial Woes

Only one living being other than himself knew Skeed's terrible secret and that being was a young teenager by the name of Folon. Now fifteen – one year younger than Lyude and seven younger than Skeed – Folon had been an orphan living on the streets of Azha until about a decade ago, when Geldoblame had bought all the street urchins to use as guinea pigs for scientific developments by his top researchers. Of the twenty or so taken from Azha, only two had survived the tests to be drafted into the army – Folon himself and a dark-skinned girl named Ayme.

Put bluntly, Folon fascinated Skeed. The teen's skin was a strikingly pale blue thanks to the chemicals he had been forced to ingest during the testing he had undergone and his hair was a rich royal shade of the same colour, with flecks of bright crimson. The ordeals he had endured had unhinged him significantly. Thus he was a member of the special forces directly below the Emperor himself; no one else could control him. He wore armour that was a size or two too big for him, making him seem frail and scrawny, even for his age.

Skeed had originally taken Folon home for some quick and guiltless sex. He had never meant to get attached, but, having threatened Folon and having the teen sneer back in his face, he had asked how one so young could be so fearless and so jaded. Upon hearing Folon's sad story, he had realised how similar they were, and, instead of sex, they had spent the evening talking. Skeed had slowly grown to love and need his little blue-skinned companion even more than he loved and needed Vallye, and Folon cared about Skeed as someone who understood and sheltered him. Yes, they had sex, and frequent sex at that, as each was as insatiable as the other when it came to domination.

Neither of them minded the age gap; Folon enjoyed having the older man over him and sometimes even beneath him, and Skeed was simply amazed that one so young could so skilfully bring out such tenderness from deep within him – this being the tenderness he would show to Folon and Vallye, and no other - and harbour such a control over him.

One day, before Lyude's exile, Folon had been asking why Skeed hated his little brother so much. Skeed had, after a while of coaxing, told the teen his terrible and heartrending secret. Folon, who took pleasure in causing pain, had been violently sick at the very thought although it was impossible for him to sympathise and, in a moment of complete loss of control and utter vulnerability, Skeed had broken down and wept. After hearing that story, Folon never once questioned Skeed's motives for abusing Lyude so much again.

But now Lyude was gone for good, and, for some reason unknown to Folon, Skeed was suffering from unusually frequent bouts of depression and ire. Vallye was away on some business with her unit of the army, so it was up to Folon to do what he could to console Skeed when these attacks struck.

"Someone's being strangely melancholy…" The teen brought the subject up one night while he was sitting with Skeed in the living room of the latter's family estate, a glass of rich wing in hand – blood red, just as he loved it – and the fire in the grate roaring in the background. Only the trained eye would have noticed Skeed shifting uncomfortably in the large plush armchair and bristling slightly at the words, his actions were so slight.

"Ah, my devil, little devil…" The burgundy-haired man sighed out, eyes washing over Folon, the fire reflected in their depths.

"What's wrong with you, Skeed? You really miss your redheaded whore that much?" The alcohol was swirled in the glass and then downed in one. Though, by law, Folon was too young to drink alcohol, Skeed felt that they had committed so many taboo acts already that another wouldn't make much of a difference. Besides, Folon was so much more flirtatious when he was drunk.

"It's rather disconcerting." The officer spoke after a moment's pause. "I've always had him handy so I could take my revenge on him, it's rather strange now that he has left."

"Move on." The blue-haired teen set his glass down, rising and taking Skeed's from him, setting it on the table with his own. "The people from Diadem will have killed him by now anyway. Your job will have been finished for you. There's no need for you to worry your head over it any more."

"What right have those barbarians to do that?" Skeed's hand automatically moved to stroke across Folon's ass softly, absently, as the teen crawled over him, straddling his lap. "I stopped them from executing him not only because our family name would be ruined and disgraced beyond redemption but also because I myself wanted to finish the job!"

"Let it go." Folon sounded remarkably sane when he spoke; that was yet another of the qualities that Skeed succeeded in bringing out of him: whatever sanity he had remaining. "You've avenged her. Don't dwell on the past."

Skeed nodded. Under normal circumstances, or when anyone else was saying 'don't dwell on the past', he would snap at them or maybe worse. Yet… Folon had had a hard life of his own, and thus, in Skeed's books, he was allowed to talk about not dwelling on the past. After all, the blue-skinned teen didn't dwell on the past, so, Skeed reckoned, he should be able to find the strength within himself to let go after all these years.

A small shiver ran through him as Folon nipped at his ear, and he barely heard the young assassin speaking: "… I'll take your mind off it…"

"Hm… you do that, Devil." Skeed's hand slid down the back of the trousers he had loaned the teen so the latter didn't have to wear his army uniform. "So much more attractive without that cumbersome armour…"

"So much more attractive without that gaudy suit you wear…" Folon retaliated, grinning inanely at Skeed, who was dressed in a black shirt and some casual trousers.

As the blue-skinned boy crawled over his older partner, the scent of fine wine was obvious between them. It drove both of them wild when their lips met in a fierce and passionate kiss, each fighting the other for control and domination, and that same aroma, which hung pleasantly on the air, calmed them both when they pulled apart. The tang of the wine was mixed with the unique fragrance from each of them. Skeed's of sandalwood and exotically expensive and refined spices, Folon's the enticing smells of violence, wine and flowers from the desert – poisonous flowers.

"I hate it when you're depressed." Folon stated softly. "Your sex is crap when you're depressed."

Skeed smirked in response to the remarks from his impish, devilish little teen, suddenly sliding his hand around to grip the blue thigh painfully hard. Folon gave a pleasured little gasp at the feeling of rapid bruising at the contact points, so hard was Skeed's grip, and revealed at the same time another of his little foibles that enchanted the officer so – his love of pain, whether he was causing it or suffering it. Skeed supposed that was from the horrors he had seen in the lab; it seemed logical that, to cope with the pain suffered after being used as nothing more than something to test dangerous chemicals and conceptions on, the younger male would force himself to like and enjoy the agony.

To Skeed's immense satisfaction, Folon had grown hard as a result of the pleasurable hurt in his leg. The dangerous light of lust gleamed in the mad eyes of the assassin as, once again, their lips met with enough force to bruise both. In a deft movement, Folon was pressing a hand to Skeed's crotch, sneering once he thought he had control over the man, who had jerked and given the smallest of noises, but, in a turn against Folon, Skeed raised his knee to press it right up between his younger lover's legs.

Thanks to that move, Folon was instant putty in his hands, though not compliant putty, nothing like Lyude. Not at all; controlling Folon was like attempting to control an earthquake: both impossible and perilous. It was yet another of the reasons that Skeed enjoyed Folon so much – the blue-headed teen was a genius in his bed, a challenge to overcome, a writhing and kinky slave of blood and sex that Skeed just couldn't get enough of.

"Shall I let you be on top today, little Folon?" He murmured, giving another press upwards with his knee. The responding growl of desire was slightly breathless as the other agreed eagerly – Skeed mostly fought for control; he was loath to give it up for anyone. But, when he consented to Folon, it was enjoyable for both of them, most enjoyable indeed.

And thus they played, and they played and played until both their bodies were gleaming with sweat, their torn clothes in a heap on the floor and they were left panting in a tangled mess of limbs, one on top of the other, though both seeming to be underneath. Both gave a final moan of lustful pleasure as they, at the same time, released their essence, before they paused in their movements to catch their breath.

"Ah, little devil, as fulfilling as always…" Skeed murmured, watching Folon pull out of him. Every time he allowed the other to be on top, Folon always surprised him with a new game or technique or position… he was like a goldmine of kinky.

"And was little Lyude ever as good as I am for you?" Folon asked, beginning to tease Skeed's chest with his teeth, leaving bleeding bite marks around the tender tan skin of the older man's nipples, eliciting a quiet gasp from his twitching lover with each nip.

"Not at all, I never let him have me. I never gave him pleasure, well you know, I only wanted revenge for what he did." Skeed spoke resolutely, a small inhalation following as Folon licked down to his navel, dipping his tongue in. "Ah… damn…"

"Might have to go away for a while soon. I'll see you straight before and straight after, though. For a goodbye shag and a welcome back fuck, you know?" The blue and red hair tickled Skeed's bare skin in the most irritating yet provocative way.

"Oh? You finally have an assignment?"

"Not sure. Possibly. Depends on what Geldoblame gets round to."

"Hm…" Skeed threaded his fingers through the odd-coloured hair before him, teasing it gently before pulling Folon's head back roughly and stealing himself a kiss. "You can't run away from me, my little devil boy… so you'd better come back. You hear?"

"Mmm, yes… and if I'm late, I'll expect a beating…"

And Skeed smirked at that.

"Deal."


	5. V: New Beginnings

True to his word, Folon had indeed been given an assignment, a private and utterly secret mission involving he and Ayme and Giacomo. He hadn't told Skeed the details, but the dark-haired officer really didn't mind, as long as his Folon was brought safely home to him. The teen had left on the Goldoba the day after Vallye returned from training in the Nihal desert, which gave little time for loneliness on Skeed's behalf. His pet blue-skinned assassin had visited him the day before his departure to play the goodbye games they had promised each other. Not alone, Vallye spending that afternoon and the following day with him as he updated her on what had happened in her absence, Skeed's temper was relatively good – at least until a day or two later, when Fadroh came to visit.

He hadn't seen the Imperial commander since Lyude had been exiled, when both of them had been obliged to see that little convict off. Being as Vallye had disappeared the day before, he was in a relatively bad mood anyway, and Fadroh's sudden appearance didn't improve matters in the slightest. The blonde-streaked man's voice was solemn and official, nothing like the casual and carefree tones he adopted when he visited on business that he had not been instructed to by Geldoblame.

"Skeed." He nodded curtly, cold and distant in attitude and posture. "His Eminence Emperor Geldoblame wishes to have a private conference with you in his bedchambers."

"Then I'll be there right away." Skeed's voice was little more than a low snarl. What had happened the last few times he had been called to Geldoblame's bedroom had not bee at all pleasant for him. "And will _you_ be staying this time?"

"As my Lord wishes." Fadroh answered, voice and face skilfully blank, and Skeed knew immediately that that meant 'yes'.

Ugh. He hated it when he was called to Geldoblame's private bedchambers. The first time had been many years ago – almost a decade, in fact – when he had been thirteen, just turned, as he remembered. He had just joined the army and automatically been promoted to Lieutenant in the forces because of his family name. Back then… he had been young, eager to please, nothing like the cold and jaded man he had turned out to be. He had been more like Lyude, back then, than the Skeed he was now.

When Geldoblame had called the younger Skeed to his bedroom for a one-on-one 'debriefing', Skeed had been ever so excited, though that enthusiasm had rapidly turned to fear and then abject terror and pain as Geldoblame had begun to use force to get what he wanted, pressing the maroon-eyed boy into the sheets so hard… Skeed had been whimpering, begging, crying for mercy. Ever since… he hadn't shed a single tear, he'd become as cold and emotionlessly jaded as the ice that the foreign travellers talked about that came with the season called winter (for Alfard was always too hot for ice, being where the desolate Nihal desert was), he would never allow Geldoblame the satisfaction of controlling him again, never allow the maniacal Emperor to have the pleasure of seeing him so wretched and helpless…

"His Eminence has asked me to inform you that he currently holds your sister Vallye in his omnipotent grasp." The young commander spoke suddenly, in a voice that said that most of his compliments to the Emperor were somewhat false, but that the information was true.

"Bastard!" Skeed clutched Fadroh's shoulders with vice-like grip, so hard that his knuckles went white with the pressure. "That's completely uncalled for! Why does he need to have her? If he's hurt her, I'll -!"

"Hurry along to this conference?" Fadroh suggested in an icy voice, as blank and expressionless as ever while dealing with official matters.

"Ugh!" Skeed all but flung Fadroh away from him, storming out of the estate, heading for the Imperial Fortress.

---

Geldoblame enjoyed his position as Emperor, probably too much – complete control of a race of people, influence over the most advanced technology in the known world and all the handsome young men he could possibly molest.

To him, Skeed was a challenge, a game he hadn't yet won. Fadroh had fought back at first, but Geldoblame had been disappointed – it hadn't taken much to beat Fadroh back into silent submission, his flame long ago burnt out. However, Skeed… every time the Emperor saw his officer, those burgundy eyes were more and more aflame with the terrible fires of hatred and defiance. Geldoblame knew that, when Skeed finally gave in, it would be the sweetest of victories.

Think of the devil – here was his challenging little game now, slamming through the door, growling and looking ready to kill.

"What have you done with her?" Skeed demanded, just as Fadroh came in to the room, Vallye by his side.

"She's unharmed. Now, I have something I want you to do…"

With a glance at Vallye, Skeed sighed, hands moving to the buttons of his hated lilac and seagreen jacket. "Why involve her?"

"Don't jump to conclusions!" Geldoblame snapped. "Although I would never refuse the wonders that you have just offered me, there is business I wish for you to deal with in Diadem. She is only here as a precaution – if you refuse to go, I am sure I shall have my fun playing with her… or letting her watch me playing with you, dear Skeed…"

"With all due respect, fuck off." Skeed's eyes narrowed. "Diadem? I'm going. There's no need for your dominance games, _Sire._"

"I'll have to punish you for your impertinance, boy. Not that you ever learn; you remain as feisty as ever... still, that's part of your charm.. You never know, she might enjoy watching… us…" The sentence was left hanging as the Imperial ruler crossed to Skeed, sliding one hand beneath the waistband of the redhead's trousers. Skeed inhaled slightly.

"… getcherfuckinhandouttathere!"

"Hmm..." The Emperor smirked, finally drawing his hand out after giving a squeeze. "I think you get my meaning... yes?"

"Whatever. I'll go." Skeed snarled, adjusting himself and brushing past Fadroh irately in his haste to leave the bedchambers of the man he so despised, slamming the door behind him as he left with a whip of burgundy and turquoise. He had always wanted to be a brother for Vallye - orphaned young - to look up to. How degrading it was for Geldoblame to use such mind games. Although it was hard to believe he could hate anyone more than he hated Lyude, Geldoblame most _certainly_ topped Skeed's list of people to kill.

---

In the short time he had been in Diadem, Lyude had grown more and more accustomed to the new laws and customs that this strange country set down for him. Because of his origins, he had expected harsh retorts and so much hatred, but, contrary to the racism in Alfard, those from Diadem were not as xenophobic as he had feared. Already he was friends with several of Ladekahn's knights - but no one was as close to him as the king himself.

In a word... Ladekahn was wonderful. In several, he was amazing, understanding, responsible, noble and so, so kind. If the redhead had been afraid of what retribution he would face at the hands of the supposedly barbarian king, that seemed only like a dream now. Who could have imagined that he felt safer here than he ever had in Alfard? There was only one thing missing - Almarde, his nurse. He wanted to show her this wonder, this freedom...

And Diadem itself...! The cloud country was amazing! None of the metal and artificial sheen that graced Mintaka, instead the clouds that rolled peacefully by were every colour from gold to indigo and maroon.

Speaking of the clouds... far in the distance, the beautiful fuschia was being parted by some sort of fast-approaching air cruiser. Lyude silently wondered who it was, perhaps if it was one of the routine patrols that the knights performed around the outskirts of the island, or perhaps an emergency rescue team come back from the Greater Celestial River... No. As it came closer, the young amassador could see the Imperial colouring - but why was Mintaka sending a cruiser?

He pointed the approaching vessel out to two nearby knights, one of whom went to contact the king. The other of the two knights accompanied Lyude to the dock, so that the little redhead could see who was visiting the Land of Clouds. Lyude himself could barely keep calm - what if he was being called back to Mintaka? What if they'd forgiven him?

...Then the cruiser docked and the lone passenger climbed out. Long controlled limbs, perfectly timed movements. Every twitch had a purpose. Eyes cold and calculating. As though he was a chess player, thinking two moves ahead of any opponent. Surely these reasons were why he had made it to such a high level in the army. Such a respected strategist.

Skeed stepped onto Diadem territory.

"Oh!" Lyude gasped, eyes wide. He nudged the knight, who was on the brink of asking Skeed for his name and purpose in coming. "That - that's my brother, that's Skeed!"

"..." Skeed's face was blank. He knew what he had to do. How he would love to... no. He had to hold back. He couldn't let his control go - he knew how intricate the plan was. If he made one wrong move... he would end up worse than dead at the hands of his Emperor.

"What is the purpose of your visit, my Lord?" The knight asked, keeping politeness. Lyude smiled hopefully at his brother. Maybe he could go home...

"... I have merely come to debrief the Ambassador." Cold voice. Skeed lead his little brother a small way away. His right hand twitched. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a group of knights making their way down to the dock. If he didn't act now, there would be no chance...

The action was surprisingly quick. It showed Skeed's skill in his work. The only giveaway was the flash of sunlight upon metal.

Lyude stared in a fascinated horror at the tip of a blade that was protruding from his middle. Had Skeed just... had Skeed just killed him? The young Ambassador made a strange gurgling noise, bubbles of blood bursting from his nose and mouth as Skeed pulled the hilt of his assassin's knife from his brother's back and watched silently as the younger Imperial sank to the ground and lay still in an ever-deepening pool of his own blood.


	6. VI: Pittance

Ladekahn sat over the bedside of his unconscious ambassador. How worried he had been when the bleeding mess was carried in on the shoulder of one of the knights. How worried he had been when the unnaturally pale young man had been lain down, had his top cut away from him, when he had seen the awful wound and been told of what happened. How Lyude had been stabbed in the back by his own brother.

What kind of monsters did Alfard spawn, to carry out such heartless cowardly acts? Ladekahn had to clench his hand into a fist to vent his frustration. Had he promised to protect Lyude when the terrified young man first arrived from Mintaka - what of that promise now? Damn it all! What could he promise Lyude now, now that all trust had probably been shattered. In his mind, stinging words already rang: 'Why didn't you save me?', 'Why weren't you there to protect me when you promised?' and the like.

Perhaps he was skipping ahead of himself. Thankfully, the injury had not been fatal, and the knights on the scene had managed to get Lyude to the doctor before blood loss killed him. Oh, Lyude was still alive all right, just with another scar to his name. The worst of it was that, despite the number of trained knights there, his best fighters, the one guilty perpetrator of this seeming attempted murder had escaped. Skeed had managed to get away. The knight who reported to him said that the wine-haired man had vanished. A deft movement or two and he was gone.

A soft moan brought the king from his reverie. Lyude was waking - oh, thank the Skies! Those red eyes flickered open to a squint as they adjusted to the light.

"Lyude... how are you feeling?" Ladekahn asked, keeping his voice quiet just in case.

"Uhh... little woozy... but okay overall." The little redhead's eyes lit upon the clean, crisp bandages around his middle.

"Oh, those are on to keep the area clean." The king had followed the red gaze. "The doctor and his healing magnus fixed most of the damage. No major organs hit, I'm told. No haemorrhaging or anything serious like that."

"... and... Skeed?"

"He... got away." It pained Ladekahn to admit the failure of his knights. "I am told that he vanished after stabbing you. We put his craft under heavy guard but in the morning, my knights were unconscious and the cruiser was gone. He's probably back in Alfard by now. I'm... sorry we could not do more."

"Oh - no, please, there's no need to _apologise_, I mean, Skeed's a strategist, he probably had his escape planned out before he came, he's Geldoblame's favourite and, and... well... that's how he's always been trained, so I'm not surprised... He sometimes gets called on to assassinate people too, I guess he's done this sort of thing hundreds of times before."

"So then he is a heartless killer?" The king raised an eyebrow. "I like the sound of this man less and less. I cannot see how such an angel can be related to the devil incarnate."

"...Oh... yes, I suppose he is heartless..."

Ladekahn could see that Lyude was getting depressed. Poor thing. Though it happened less and less these days, (as Ladekahn conceitedly hoped, that was something to do with him), it still did pain the king to watch the ambassador sitting, barely holding back tears yet insisting that he was fine.

"Perhaps," he spoke to interrupt any upsetting thoughts that might be working their way through Lyude's mind, "I could take you to see the sights that our fishermen live with when you're allowed out of bed. Any resident of Diadem has to see them at least once. Does that interest you, Ambassador Lyude?"

"... Oh! Yes, Sire, it... that sounds lovely!" The teen smiled and Ladekahn knew that his scheme had been successful. No depression today, it seemed. Now, where to take him first? The Lesser Celestial River was local, they could visit any time, and Nashira he was sure Lyude had been to many times... Ah!

"How does the Greater Celestial River sound? It is only approachable part of the year, because the spring heat melts the winter snows in the rest of the world and causes the river to burst its banks. In those times you can approach by air, but you can't swim or fly close - those are the best parts..."

"S-swimming with you?" Ladekahn noticed how Lyude carefully dodged around the flying. "That.. that sounds wonderful! Yes, yes, thank you, goodness! What an honour!"

The king smiled and began to run his hand soothingly through bright, soft red hair. He was only just beginning to notice how adorable the young teenager was when he had a big smile on his face. It suited Lyude to be happy. His face would light up quite literally - a faint blush would grace his cheeks, the smile on his lips, his eyes would either be closed in contentment or shining brightly... everything about the expression was... perfect.

He shook himself out of such thoughts. Lyude was an ambassador. A friend. A victim. Not a lover, or a sex object. The redhead needed comfort and company now, not coital pleasures. Perhaps that time for that would come, but Ladekahn would much rather see Lyude with someone he truly loved, rather than with someone he felt obliged to repay. Such as himself.

But then, only time would tell.

---

Escaping from Sheliak had been surprisingly easy. Skeed had lurked in the shadows for an hour or two, watching the guards stationed around his ship. It was the work of an instant for a master like him to slip a sleeping draft into their drink undetected and wait for the coast to be clear. Then he had left Sheliak. Mission accomplished.

Had he been aiming to kill Lyude? No. If he hadn't held back, Lyude would by now be dead. No, no, he had kept to the plan completely, poisoned blade and all. Hm. Would Geldoblame be proud with him? Probably, but he didn't need to question what his reward would be - if he even _got_ a reward. It wouldn't be a pay rise, either.

He arrived back in Mintaka in the dead of night after an uneventful voyage over the skies. Moored his craft and stealthily crept back towards his estate. He had just rounded the corner of the street that his family just about owned when a not-to-subtle voice called out to him:

"Oi! Cock! Over here!"

He knew who it belonged to. No one else woul call him 'cock' without fearing retribution. It was his little blueskin.

"Folon! Damn you, little bastard, where the hell did you come from?" He hissed in reply as he spotted his psuedo-lover amongst some boxes stacked up oustide an engineer's shop. "What do you want?"

"Jus' wanted to see you again, cockhead." Folon strode confidently over to Skeed and flung himself into the wine-nette's arms. "Y'not gonna be seeing me again, prob'ly won't be coming back to Alfard. Not alive, at any rate. Wonder what it's like to be dead? Anyway. Wanted to say 'ciao' and 'thanks for the sex', big man."

"... what assignment demands _this_?" Skeed didn't want to accept it. Folon was one of the few things he had left that kept him sane. One of the two people who were even half way to understanding him, and, just like that, he was going to lose his young friend? Subconsciously, the arms around the blue skinned boy tightened.

"...argh, don't squeeze me, I'll throw up on you..." But Folon was squeezing just as tight. As though the crazed, bloodthirsty assassin was upset at the thought of losing Skeed. "I was just on m'way to your house to leave a note. Don't need to now. Wanna have sex? I have about half an hour before I gotta go."

... It would be the last time. For who knew how long. Skeed almost growled in frustration. He kept losing things that mattered to him, and now this...

"Yes. I will have sex with you. Here. Now. Screw authority." His voice was rough, unrefined, and he felt his Folon shiver in anticipation.

"Authority? You _are_ the authority!" Folon snickered, throwing off his trousers and laying on the ground, legs spread. "Make it quick, I wanna get cleaned up so Giacomo doesn't think I been playing with myself again."

"... That is more information than I ever needed to know. Does Giacomo _watch_ or something? How the hell does _he_ know?"

"The white stains tell stories.." Folon sang as Skeed lowered himself to straddle his blue legs. "Anyway, I only did it because Ayme was being a bitch about me having big bulge."

Skeed said no more. Kept it quick and pleasant, just as Folon wished. It was painful. Never would see his blueskin again? Too much. And then... while Folon lay, spent and beautiful on the ground, the moon reflecting off the metal of the buildings throwing strange shadows on the boy's blue skin, Skeed pressed their lips together for one final kiss. Then he stood, pulled his trousers up, and left for his house with no more words.

No point in letting Folon see him holding back tears and shattering the illusion of his bravery that the teen no doubt kept for times like this.


End file.
